


Unicorn Prompt

by CaptainTarthister



Series: Unexpected Prompts [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Afternoon delight, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Oral Sex, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 22:52:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15326157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: While racing against each other in the rain, Brienne remembers the moments that lead her and Jaime to where they are now.





	Unicorn Prompt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catherineflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catherineflowers/gifts).



> I was playing around with the idea of memories and unicorns and of course, catherineflowers was very eager to help! Thank you, man!
> 
> ****  
> Thanks to e.e. cummings and The Smiths! You'll see when you read it!
> 
> Also, lazy title alert!

Death by chocolate, Brienne had groaned, pretending to flop dead in her seat, eyes rolling to the back of her head. Jaime’s laugh drew attention, half amused and the other annoyed at the antics going on at their table.

She chuckled too, hiding her burning cheeks in her palms because such silliness was unusual for her. But he reached across the table, pulling one finger at a time from her face until his emerald eyes reflected the clear sapphire pools of her gaze.

There it was again. Her heart moving so strangely. At once fast and slow. Just like time. Everyone else in the restaurant bustled around them; servers taking orders, pouring water in crystal goblets clearer than rain, couples gazing at each other over wine redder than blood or golden like the sun, or half of a pair getting down on one knee to propose marriage, or just waiting for the prospect to discover the diamond ring crowned on the glaze of the crème brulee.

Life went on around them, but in their universe, her eyes softened at the soft wave of his golden hair over his forehead, the crinkle at the corner of his left eye deeper than the one on the right. She stared at his lips, a little red from the wine. Slowly her right leg folded over her left, her cunt swelling in anticipation of his tongue delving deep, beard rasping her thighs leaving them pink and tingling. Her eyes captured every frame of his movement as he raised her hand to press a kiss on every finger, remembered how the brilliance of his emerald eyes crossed to the darker shade of its color spectrum when he kissed her harder behind closed doors.

He smirked. “You wanna get out of here?”

Snapping out of her trance, she blushed again. “Please.”

Payment was quick. Jaime only had to catch the eye of a wait staff for the latter to know he wanted the check. He pulled out his gold Casterly Gold Credit card, signed the bill then slipped it back to his wallet. The maître d’ saw them out of the door. A small smile tugged at the corners of Brienne’s lips as she spied Jaime smoothly slipping a twenty-stag note in his hand.

A gentle, balmy breeze caused her lightweight turquoise top to flutter around her, like small ripples of the sea. Jaime laced his fingers through hers.

“Walk you home or cab?” He asked. She lived seven blocks away.

“It’s a nice night,” she replied, catching a whiff of his crisp, lemony scent carried by the wind. His neck, a subtle golden tan, called to be nuzzled by her nose. Hoping she wouldn’t blush so profusely, she added, “Let’s just walk. Try burning off the calories, you know?”

“Oh, babe, I can think of other things that will surely burn them,” He told her with a suggestive smirk.

They have known each other for four months but dating for only a little over a month. Work and some circumstances kept them apart for some time.  When she thought back to those tumultuous days following the first time they hooked up, she couldn’t believe the calm they had managed to achieve.

She was a portrait photographer, with a liking for catching lined, anonymous faces in various states of distress and jubilance in a crowd. She’d had shows in small galleries. To pay the bills, she did photography for children of the rich, capturing them in moments of innocence and laughter among trees and in flowered fields. They were staged, of course, but parents wanted the memory of their children happy before the money would eventually lead them to booze and drugs. It was through these circles that she came to photographing state leaders and diplomats for in-depth profiles in magazines. She also did the photos for the book jackets of their memoirs.

This was how she met Jaime, who had written his first novel. Industry murmurs had it in their list of one of the best books of the year.

The man was. . .beautiful. She couldn’t stop thinking about it, even now that she had known him for a while. His good looks were proof that the gods were real. Blond hair the shade of gold, thick and worn long, almost grazing his broad shoulders. Vivid emerald eyes. A narrow, elegant nose, firm lips with a slight fullness at the bottom and a jaw that could cut glass. A beard that she could already _feel_ on her skin. He was going to be an easy assignment.

In other words, boring.

Beauty was fascinating, but it didn’t interest her. She liked lines and scars, moles and freckles. Frame after frame proved Jaime could never take a bad photo, which frustrated her. Even if the photograph would be a tiny rectangle on the jacket, she still wanted it to give a glimpse of the person’s depth. She couldn’t see a smidgen of the complexity she had read from his book with the author standing a few feet away. His annoyance didn’t help either. Though he didn’t say it, it was clear he thought this was a waste of time.

For every suggestion of a pose she made, he would cock an eyebrow at her before doing it. Look slightly to my right, she said and a quick puff of breath escaped him before obeying her. Relax. Soften your face. He gave her a lopsided smirk and crossed his arms.

He complained it was hot in her apartment, so she lowered the temperature. He complained about it again, she suggested he take off his sport jacket. He refused, pointing out there was no place to put it. She sighed, walked around from behind the camera with her arm out to take the blasted coat.

She thought he looked nice and casual: a tan sport jacket paired with a checked shirt in soft blue and cream, dark blue jeans and light, camel-brown loafers. He looked like he just stepped out of the pages of a men’s fashion magazine, but this wasn’t the look she needed. She was only doing headshots, for crying out loud.

Before crossing the street, Jaime tightened his hand around hers, looked both ways then steered them across the road. She grinned, her longer legs outpacing him a little. As soon as they stepped up on the sidewalk, he surprised her with a quick but passionate kiss on the mouth. His eyes twinkled as he licked his lips

“You taste of chocolate.”

He was often the first to kiss her. They would meet for coffee and he got up from the chair to take her mouth in a kiss that left her reeling and lightheaded. In the street while looking at shop windows, he would suddenly grab her by the belt of her pants, or tug her by the collar of her jacket to fuck her mouth with his tongue. Jaime Lannister did not know chaste and proper kisses. He was rough and devoured her, heedless of who might be watching. It kept her in a state of excitement when together, knowing that at any moment he was going to shove her against a wall and kiss her.

It shouldn’t surprise her anymore. After all, he had been the first to kiss that day in her apartment.

She took the sports coat from him, folding it over her arm to put it on the sofa on the other side of the apartment when he suddenly grabbed her hand. Her irritation faltered upon sighting the heat in his eyes, then he was grabbing her by the nape, pushing her head down to meet his kiss.

Firm, warm lips rubbed against her, then the slow slide of a tongue discovering the slightly chapped surface of her bottom lip. Teeth grazed the slick flesh before biting playfully. There were kisses, she thought, then this. Her heart leaped from a steady beat to a heavy, galloping pace that had her breathing deeply. His scent surrounded her, soapy, lemony essence that punched her right in the gut. His coat fell at their feet as her hands grasped his face. As he slammed her against the wall, he gasped that she tasted of coffee and he needed a hit of caffeine. 

He fucked her against the wall first. She was in a dress and the absence of clean underwear kept her naked under it, save for black, thigh-high stockings. Her chest was tight, overwhelmed from how the kiss led to the fuck of her life.  Her moans and his growls filled the apartment. They fucked on the floor next, with her now naked on top of him. On the couch he took her once more. At that point, her pussy was sore but she was still hot with want. She gave him a blow job.

They only had an hour and a half before her next client arrived. She took the rest of the photos wearing only stockings and purple marks of his kisses all over her neck and tits. Jaime put his jeans back on and one of her v-necked gray t-shirts. The final set of photos, in her opinion, were infinitely better and one of them would be selected to grace his book’s jacket.

They said goodbye, Jaime telling her to call him. She shrugged, giving an airy promise to do so. Her pussy was still cool from the quick wash when her next client arrived, an actress who wanted updated headshots to circulate among the talent agencies. She was a sultry brunette with full, perky tits. She and Jaime had exchanged smiles. She left the apartment smiling even more hugely because Brienne had given his number.

Being wanted was nothing new. Brienne knew that her massive height and plain, heavily-freckled face aroused only curiosity and the need to conquer from men. They wouldn’t look at her when fucking and she learned never to expect a call, nor to see them again. Acceptance was hard, but she eventually made peace with it. She equated fucking with relieving a serious itch.

She thought the encounter with Jaime was just that. A nice surprise in the afternoon to break the tension between them. She had learned to keep her heart out of anything involving fucking.

As Jaime continued to lick his lips, savoring the taste he had caught from her, she leaned in, nuzzling her nose with his. “Thank the Seven you can’t taste the tuna we had.”

He chuckled. “Now that you think about it—”

“Oh, shut up!” She exclaimed, but rather than hitting him on the shoulder, her arms went around his waist. She kissed him this time. Her heart beat was quick to rush to a hundred miles an hour.

The forecast said nothing about the possibility of rain. It was still the middle of summer. You could fry an egg on the pavement. Yet the torrents of water falling on them sounded like the beats of a thousand drums. Jaime clutched her against him as she giggled, pulling a little away from him. Together they looked up at the rain. Everyone around them were quick to run and huddle under the nearest shoulder. A man yelled about his shoes. A woman shrieked about her hair.

“Let’s make a run for it,” she suggested, looking back at Jaime.

“Do I hear a race?” He asked, grinning.

“What? No— _hey_!” She yelled when he suddenly took off. Growling that he wasn’t being fair, she pulled off her sandals and ran after him. His laugh trailed after him.

“Last one is a rotten egg, babe!”

She knew he loved to be chased—to make up for all those months he had been chasing her, he had told her before. It was ridiculous—she wasn’t playing hard to get after all, just protecting herself. He vowed to climb every wall and get past every security system, break every code between him and her heart.  

Keeping his blond head within her sights as he wove through the crowd, she remembered the first time he called her after they fucked. It wasn’t to thank her or to ask her out. You asshole, he said as soon as she picked up. She had no right giving his number to a stranger he had no interest in seeing again.

She wasn’t going to simply take this. “Jaime, she said she wanted to have drinks with you sometime and you said that would be nice.”

“That’s right. I said it’s nice. I didn’t say I wanted to or anything that could be implied I wanted to see her again. I was being nice.” He really sounded pissed.  

“Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interfere, but I thought you liked each other. She’s gorgeous.”

“Babe, she can’t tell the difference between a Shakespeare sonnet and rap music by will.i.am,” he snapped. “What makes you think that’s someone I’d want to have drinks with? Now if she can find influences of the iambic pentameter in urban rap, I might buy her a drink. And dinner.”

She decided to be cheeky. “When people drink it’s not to talk to about literature.”

“I don’t drink so it would lead to a fuck, babe. I want to fuck somebody, I go right up to her and show her. Don’t you remember?” As she gasped, he drawled, “I remember. _Everything_. You smelled fantastic.”

“You do know what you want,” she said, trying to take control of the conversation. She hoped she didn’t sound as breathless in her head.  

“And once again going for it. Meet me for dinner.”

Respect for the guy who doesn’t bullshit, she had thought, staring at the phone. But she was firm. It was sex, it was great. Probably the fuck of her life. That was all.

“What’s the matter with you?” Jaime’s voice steered her away from memories. He paused from his run to throw her a mocking grin. “Use your fabulous legs, babe. Come on!”

“Stop calling me babe!” She retorted, jogging through the crowd. Her stockings were already wet. They would be crossing the street in a moment.

The light turned green and along with everyone else, she and Jaime moved. She grunted as her foot landed on a puddle and decided to run on tiptoe the rest of the way.

It took Jaime five tries to get her to have coffee with him. It was all she would commit to. Right off, she reminded him he was the hottest fuck of her life and wanted nothing more. He told her if he was the guy telling the exact same thing to a girl, he’d be accused of being a misogynist, sexist, son of  bitch.

“You’re the female equivalent of all that. I want to get to know you and you keep reminding me I’m only a dick to ride.”

“I told you I wasn’t interested.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Hello? You wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“You didn’t stop me when I kissed you.”

She turned pink. “I—I liked it.”

“You also gave me the best blow job I’ve had. Do you do that for every guy?”

His stare was going to burn her alive. “What do you want?”

“You.”

“And?”

He grinned. “You do three-ways?”

“Fuck you, Jaime.”

“I want,” he corrected her. “It should be ‘I want to fuck you, Jaime.’”

She shook her head. “You don’t get it. You want me. And then what else? You want to get to know me? I’m not hiding some big secret. What you see is what you get.”

He eyes were soft in raking her from the top of her head to her unpolished fingernails. “Let me be the judge of that, Brienne.”

She could smile now when looking back but they were still the hardest days of her life. Somebody insisted on being a part of her life. How many times had Jaime called her out on her inability to trust, dared her to step away from the camera and see him with her own eyes rather than through a lens?

When a person, a man, in particular, wanted something, he was on his best behavior to impress. Jaime was unfiltered and proud of it. He was disarming and reveled in it. His words could easily be construed as cruel and aggressive, although he was never those. He went right to the point. Never sugarcoated anything.

Then his eyes. They always seemed to light up around her.

He wanted her, never denied it. Fuck her, know her favorite color, what book she hated, if she liked olives or not, if pineapples on pizza could be considered a human rights violation, her first camera. Oh, he wanted to fuck her so much, he said, emerald eyes burning gold while looking at her. But the weren’t going to until she got her head out of her ass. _Asshole_ , she called him then.

She was shaking all over when they did it for the second time. He kissed her, held her, asked her to tell him to stop at every breath because he wanted her sure, he wanted her to trust she was safe with him. She gasped she was scared but wanted to take the risk. She wanted to see what happened afterwards. He didn’t fuck her, not with his cock. He buried his tongue over and over in her pussy until she was too limp to tremble, too high to string a single thought to tell him off again. As he slept beside her, she knew there was no going back. It was only onward to the unknown.

In bed he asked her questions about her childhood, how she got into photography, about the places she had visited. She asked him about his family, about the scar on the right side of his abdomen, about his book.

On their fourth time together, he observed out loud that his tongue in her pussy made her honest. “You say more in bed than when we’re in a park bench.” He didn’t fuck her with his cock until the sixth time, when she finally agreed to go to his place.

She spent the weekend there. In his bed, they talked about their childhood some more, debated about action movies. They had a mutual love for arthouse horror films. She took out her camera, blushing as she asked to take a photo of him. “Your eyes look like liquid gold in the sun,” she explained.

His book hit the shelves around that time. She read every review and interview of him, teased him about it over the phone. The critical acclaim was universal. The publishing company wanted to send him on a tour for eight weeks.

The rain was not letting up. Brienne’s pace faltered, until she was standing still in the bustling crowd. Head and shoulders above everyone else, she couldn’t see the familiar gold of his hair. Had she lost him? Her apartment was still two blocks away.

She had only walked a few steps when a hard yank at her arm sent her toppling behind an alley. The rain drowned out her cry as she was whirled around. Through her wet hair striped on her face and the droplets on every eyelash, she squinted at Jaime’s grinning face. Annoyed, she pushed her hair away and shoved at him. “You scared me!”

He was _laughing._ She grunted and punched him on the shoulder, smirking as he howled. Then his eyes flashed, and he grabbed her around the hips. He chuckled as she felt his erection.

“Sorry for scaring you, babe,” he whispered against her lips. As she sighed, he nuzzled her damp neck. A cool hand cupped her breast through her blouse. “You look like a giant, sexy aurochs with very pretty nipples.”

She laughed as he kissed up and down her throat, fingers gently playing with her nipple. As his lips moved towards hers, he asked, “Do I get a kiss?”

“Not so fast,” she whispered, although every breath brought her body closer to him. She touched his wet hair. “Come on. Let’s hurry. You’re soaked.”

“You took off your shoes,” he noted as they returned to the street, holding hands. As he spoke, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and slipped it off. His eyes dropped to her nipples, noticeably pink and erect under her drenched blouse. She cocked an eyebrow at him, blushing but defiant. He grinned and shook out his jacket.

She looked at her feet. Her stockings were ruined now and covered in runs. She had lots of pairs, anyway. When she glanced back at Jaime, he was holding his jacket over him, like a makeshift tent. “Get under here. I don’t want you catching your death cold.”

He really was sweet. He was an inch and a half shorter but he was heroically offering to shield her from the rain. Smiling, she joined him under the jacket, holding up one end. “Let me do this,” she said, the water in her eyes blurring her vision of him. “Will you take my shoes?”

“Seems you’re better at this than me, babe,”  Jaime told her, relinquishing his hold on the other end of the jacket and taking her shoes. “Let’s go.”

Her height and longer arms holding the jacket kept them getting more wet as they walked the rest of the way. He clutched her shoes to his chest and kept an arm around her waist.

She liked it when he touched her. He seemed to always find a reason to touch her. Hand on the cheek. Hand on the small of her back. Her shoulder. She loved it when he held her but his touches always did things to her. Made her weak in the knees but also more sure-footed. Made her head spin and her vision clearer.

She didn’t realize how much his casual touches had become a part of her life until a day after he left for the tour. She was assembling the latest set-up for a shoot, tightening the knobs on the tripod to secure the camera when it hit her. _No one had touched her today._

It gave her a pause. She got her usual coffee and bagel from the corner shop this morning. Then the paper. After breakfast and a shower, she went to the store for the weekly groceries. _No one had touched her._

It was crazy. She didn’t see Jaime everyday but often enough for her to never realize the hours she went untouched. As she stood in the coffee aisle, she remembered his hand sliding down her spine before his arm circled her waist as she prepared coffee. It was a nothing-touch, sometimes followed by a squeeze of her body against him, then a kiss on her cheek. She didn’t smell the fragrant coffee grounds but Jaime’s warm, soapy scent. At that moment, she missed him so much.

That’s when she knew. It wasn’t only her heart on the line now.

She was all in.

Jaime returned two weeks ago, and they had been seeing each other almost every day. He still had interviews but at least his answers could be emailed, or they could be done by a phone call. He was already at work on his next novel, taking down notes and doing research. He stayed in the library until two in the afternoon before going to her apartment. Even when she had a shoot, he kept to himself, tapping away on his computer or reading.

It wasn’t a shameful secret but surprised her so immensely. Not that Jaime was not the kind of person to have these feelings for. She never had them. With anyone.

As sure as she was, she couldn’t say the words. Not yet. But it was hard trying to be tight-lipped when they so wanted to be said. _Anything_ Jaime did pulled at her heart—licking bacon grease from his fingers, stretching, clipping his toenails and filing them, when he reached for her during sleep. Her pussy would throb with desire, her heart beating slowly and quickly, as if it was still new and testing it. It beat in a rhythm she could not quite catch when she thought about Jaime and the feelings that were still so very strange.

They climbed up the steps to her building. Water continued to pour in thick torrents. “Keys in my bag,” she told Jaime loudly. He tucked her shoes under his arm and turned to dig out her keys. She kept his coat over them, not wanting him to get even more wet.

 Finally, the keys were out and he was unlocking the front door. He ushered her inside and she shuddered from the sudden warmth surrounding her. He closed the door and she grabbed his hand to lead him up the stairs.

She unlocked the door to her apartment. A puddle quickly gathered under them. “I’ll get the heater,” she said, folding his coat over her arm. He suddenly put a hand on her shoulder.

“Get out of those clothes and into the shower, babe. I’ll take care of things,” he told her.

“Don’t take too long.” Then, for no reason at all, she suddenly kissed him on the lips. She lit up from deep inside as he hugged and kissed her back.

As she pulled away, he murmured against her lips. “I won’t, Brienne.”

In the bathroom, she got the shower running right away. She dragged her clothes off her, having now adhered to her skin. Her stockings went in the trash bin, while she hung her blouse and skirt on a rack, along with her panties.

Hot water on her goosebump-riddled skin was a relief. She groaned, opening her mouth to take some of it in. Scrubbed at her hair, soaped her shoulders, her tits, toward her pussy then all the way to her feet. She was glad there were no cuts.

She was rinsing the soap away when Jaime swept the curtain to the side and joined her. She smiled, making room for him in the narrow stall. As he stood under the heavy gush of water, she soaped his back, his ass. Her face flushed even more when she realized his ass reminded her of warm golden buns covered in white sugar glaze.

Finding herself a little unsteady on her feet, she pressed against him, kissed the back of his shoulder, his nape. “Brienne,” he groaned, pulling at her arms to wrap around his trim, hard waist.

He turned his head, angling for a kiss and she gave him one eagerly. Somehow, as they tasted each other, she managed to return the soap on the shelf. She pressed him against the wall, their hot pants becoming each other’s breath. A pale, freckled finger slipped between the line dividing his ass, causing him to grunt and slap his palms on the slick wall.

She followed the path of her hand, kissing the tight dimples on his back just above the firm curve of his ass. A glide of her hands on his thighs was all he needed to turn around, for her mouth to wrap around the firm, plump head of his cock.

She heard the squeak of a shower turned off. Free to enjoy him without having to breathe through water, she opened her mouth wider and took more of him inside. He tasted of rain and smelled of the musk coming from this morning’s shower. He held her wet hair away from her face as she rubbed and licked him. Her eyes veered up to him. He was watching her, his face soft and even more beautiful.

“Kiss me,” he told her. She sucked him deeply, her throat protesting from the force and size of him. He gasped and tugged at her hair. “On the lips, Brienne.”

Slowly, she released him, giving his cock a last lick before kissing her way up to his flat stomach, nibbling at the tight muscles there. She licked his nipples, nuzzled his damp chest hairs. His hands roamed her body, squeezing her ass, caressing her hip, arching her back so he could take one of her plump nipples in his mouth.

“Jaime,” she breathed, pushing her breast deeper in his mouth. Her pussy _hurt._ As he released her nipple to take another, she took his hand and guided it down between her thighs.

He claimed her mouth as his finger fucked her pussy. He nipped at her lips, she licked him. They held tightly to each other through the storm of their kiss and the roughening pace of his finger pumping into her.

She was quick to find her release, moaning filthily in his ear as she shook, and her pussy squeezed around his finger. She felt as weak as a kitten in the aftermath, clinging to him as he pressed her against the wall. His lips once again found hers. Though she was satisfied for now, she still burned with desire. There was no end to it.

Through half-closed eyes, she watched Jaime look at her hungrily before taking one of her legs and hitched it high around his hip. Her smile was bleary and tender and he smiled back, kissing her sweetly. She cupped his face and kissed him all over as he took his cock and began to fuck her.

He always felt so right. More than the perfect fit. “Jaime,” she whispered, brushing his hair from his forehead, looking in his eyes. In their emerald depths, she saw a light that would never go out. A light that she knew was just for her.

He fucked her at a rapid pace that left her gasping and murmuring incoherently. Yet he understood every tight sound from her lips, whispering equal nonsense as his cock surged in and out of her pussy, hardening and lengthening at every lunge back inside her. She kissed him as if to take a long drink from his mouth.

He growled as he slammed inside her a final time. Her pussy rippled around his cock as it poured into her, making her so wet his semen dripped down her thighs. She held him through the ride, kissing him, feeling that pull and stretch of her heart that she only felt with him.

Her hold didn’t relent even after the tremors left his body. Nor did he make any move to be let go. She kissed him, her heart now filled with the kind of wonder that kept stars apart.

 

****  
The aroma of rich, hot chocolate filled the apartment. Brienne’s tiredness from the run and their shower fuck began to ease with every whiff of the beverage. She poured the dark liquid into heavy, wide-mouthed mugs, dropped marshmallows in them and squeezed a dollop of whipped cream.

As she reached in the cupboard for a package of cookies, she snuck a glance at Jaime and couldn’t stop from giggling at his clothes. He stood in the section of the living room that served as her studio. She watched as he took her camera from the tripod, testing its heft in his hand before turning to take a photo of her. Laughing now, she pulled the package of chocolate chips and tore them open.

Jaime put the camera back on the tripod, securing it with turns of the knobs. He pretended to sway his hips as he walked to join her in the kitchen. “So, what do you think, babe? Do you want to fuck me in these pajamas or what?”

She swore to Jaime that the set he was wearing was the only clean sleepwear she had. She was wearing a three-day-old tank and faded, red gym shorts. The only other clean pair of lounge pants she could offer was a pair of leggings with a hole in the crotch.

Jaime had no choice but to take the screamingly pink shorts set. As if it wasn’t bad enough, the t-shirt had a giant print of a unicorn smack in the center. The shorts had smaller prints all over. They barely covered his ass. It was the cutest thing.

He looked ridiculous but so fucking fetching too. She laughed as he pretended to pout while dramatically leaning against the door frame, arm flung over his forehead like a damsel in distress.

“My fair maiden, shall I bargain my wood for your help?” He asked, emerald eyes sparkling. The fabric of the shorts was lightweight cotton. There was no mistaking the huge bulge under them.

“Just wood, ser?” She asked, playing along as she put chocolate chip cookies on a plate.

“I offer kisses but I pray you don’t take advantage, sweet maiden.”

She laughed and put the mugs on the table. “Get over here.”

He kissed her on the lips before sitting down. “This looks great, babe. Thanks.”

 She took the plate of cookies then joined him. Jaime swiped a finger at the crown of whipped cream and held out his index finger to her. Her face turned scarlet, but she leaned in to take it in her mouth. It tasted of vanilla and him.

They sipped their drinks, content to not say anything for a few minutes. Jaime had his hand on her knee. Brienne glanced toward the window. The rains had stopped.

Jaime helped himself to the cookies, dipping a crescent in the cream and closing his eyes as he took a bite. He was breathtaking to watch. Hot chocolate and cookies—nothing could be simpler. Yet he savored every sip and bite like it was ambrosia. He never did anything halfway. He was always both feet in and moving onward.

He would rather make choices than remain in the safe harbor of familiarity. Just like her. He might be a little reckless, a little too sure—none of which was in any way similar to her—but he would rather look back in his life years from now and know the answers rather than be haunted by questions.

And she was learning this each day they were together. Is it any wonder her heart learned something new too?

Jaime put down the hot chocolate. Brienne smiled at the dot of whipped cream on his nose and on his upper lip. She picked up his hand from her knee and kissed it.

“I love you, Jaime.”

She said it simply, as if she were declaring she wanted more cookies, more whipped cream. A kiss. The three words threatening to burst from her heart since the day she realized exactly what she felt about him. She sipped her hot chocolate, astounded how she was not trembling nor was she thinking of backpedaling. This was what it felt to be sure. _To know._

She glanced back at Jaime. He was smiling at her, a twinkle in his eyes. He touched her hair, tucked it behind her ear. Thumbed her lips still warm from the beverage. Then he took her hand and twined his fingers through hers.

His eyes shone like gold as she saw the light there that would never go out. A light that was just for her. Her heart beat in the rhythm that she was beginning to learn. He kissed her on the hand.

“Come here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo-hoo! You made it to the end. Thank you for reading!


End file.
